The Legendary Knight: Yamato Acquired
by veronca
Summary: Dante. Trish. Nelo. Timewarps! A twist to the story between Nelo Angelo and our favorite Devil hunter! One of my first fanfics! A very twisted pov fic.


**The Legendary Knight: Yamato acquired**

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Dejavu, the recurrence of dreams or the repetition of events returning, which happened to him that very evening, the same pale moon descending down the dark alleyway of his place of business. The red glow of light flashed, "devil may cry" and the episode became all too real. She would be approaching here at this point in time, her name; Trish, a vision of what my mother looked apart from for the clothing she wore, long and lean, glowing with yellow fire, an image of honest sexuality and empty promises.

It wasn't really expected, all this renewed cinematic assignment. In fact, Dante liked the way he looked as he glanced over his new attire, an interesting display of purple and red lining, velvet and suede, and so he wasn't surprised when she stole his bike to make her grand entrance.

Splinters flying everywhere, the crash through the entrance made another dent and he swore he'd make her pay for it later, he mused. And there she sat in the red motorcycle, motor revving up and her lean strong thighs hugging their sides, the girl who would offer me something to fill the long nights of solitude. She cried out in astonishment when I countered every move she threw at me, from the quick reflex of her attack, readying to find out more of my power. I had her pinned down against the floor, her eyes flashed astonishment but she spoke out in defense,

"No, I need your help. I came to—

"Yes, to put an end to the underworld. Mundus wants to take over doesn't he?"

Eyes widened, she was a little hesitant, and her mind races as to how he knew everything and that her arrival seemed expectant. Could it be he possessed more power than she was told he had? Mundus informed her of his limited capabilities, wishing to entice him with her looks, being so close to his dear mother's beauty, he could not refuse. The undertakings of new missions were but a sweet bonus, his blood needed it, the adrenaline already soaring for the kill and the mockery of destroying Mundus again. It must be a dream; he thought as he stared into her lying eyes, no matter, he'd get her in the end. Didn't heroes get the girl every time?

The place looked the unchanged, previous to the annihilation, the majestic display of colors; purple, white and red smoke, looking like world war three, a beautiful vision of something out of a nuclear blast, perfect and ornamental against the blue, clear sky, and he laughed at the dialogue he had recalled at their departure. She was so green in the ways of humankind, with her long blond hair flying in the high wind and Dante at the wheel of the plane, enlightening her of the earth outside her demon world.

Through the missions, easy as it was went by like some dream come true, picking up all the pieces of where he left off and even blowing the crap out of Phantom, that annoying mutated insect that followed the white haired demon at every corner, and finally giving him a taste of his newfound blade gripped tightly in the white glove now stained with blood and ash.

It wasn't clear to Dante how he had acquired yamato for this belonged to his father, the demon who started it all and saved the entire human race from the hands of Mundus. What gave him little hesitation was the inevitable meeting of Nelo Angelo, his once brother who is no longer a part of him. He had never even tried to break a decent conversation with the dark knight. Not that he could when all he intended was to bash his face in yet it irked how Vergil had grown larger but the worst clincher of all was his incapability of communication. "Had his transformation from the proud son of our father, loving child to my mother to a right hand knight of darkness distort his ability of speech?" He pondered, yet all Vergil could utter were disgruntled replies of battle cries and pain when Dante at last set the sword in his arctic heart.

The demon seeker would wait; patience at his side while the last encounter with his would be brother came to a close. At the enclosure of the wide open room, Vergil came in his typical dramatic entrance, he was always one for the spectacular and so Dante attempted to settle the score of his pathetic downfall, deliberating at once to know of his betrayal to their mother, to their father, and most of all to himself.

Nelo Angelo waited as well, in that chamber that had probably belonged to him. His back facing the trespasser of this unholy place. Thunder illuminated the black sky, giving him that faultless appearance of Mundus's right hand knight, the metal bindings of his suit a perfect fit to this fallen transformation. Dante strides in and as his long lost brother turns, a hand delayed the foreseeable battle.

"Vergil, before we embark on another one on one battle, what the hell are you doing?" Dante retorted, his devil trigger gauge at a full, a confrontation between brothers at a stand still, and the other with no words at all laughed in that deep voice, finally and to his younger brother by the space of several minutes, spoke, "My name is no longer Vergil, it is Nelo Angelo." He proudly continued, "What do you know anyway? I had to save her. You on the other hand wouldn't understand what I had to do to keep her alive. To keep her animated in the place of Trish."

"What!" Dante sucked in, unable to believe his ears. "Are you saying…."he barely could choke out the words. "That Trish is really OUR mother?"

His mouth dry and the classics of Homers Odyssey that his mother gave him stung his memory. "What the f---!" Bile rose to his throat because Dante had lusted after Trish, even touched her in that personal way, despite the same features as his mother but it consoled him that it wouldn't be any difference since his mother was a mere mortal, and if alive would be much older than Trish, already changed in appearance due to the turning of time.

Nelo Angelo laughed in that great black room, his ability of instant translocation brought him closer to his dear brother; his face unmasked now, eyes flashing red instead of Dante's ice blue faced each other, readying for the last encounter.

"No." Dante simply replied. "I'm not done with you. Why! Why side with Mundus then instead of destroying him? I want to know, goddammit!" his fist clenched, the other clasped over his yamato, already singing in the room for the blood of annihilation.

"What's the matter, little brother?" Nelo Angelo snickered, "didn't realize that you were just as wicked as the rest of us? Fornicating with our own mother?" he taunted. Dante could only slash away at his attacks, giving him a full measure of his anger, the rage inside of him wanting to wipe the memory of Trish and the beloved mother who allowed him free access. His mind reeled at the thought and his cries became heard from the other side of the world; the underworld became awake at his cry of vengeance. Trish's head jerked up and wondered what could have…?

Oh how sweet was it when finally the end was near. The closure of destroying Mundus a second time was but a fitting finale, disclosure and a hint of something akin to fear spread easily on his tortured face, his impure mind already scrambling for the unanswered questions of why and how Dante had known everything beforehand.

It was Trish who had been transforming during the events of the missions, becoming aware of the silver haired devil hunter's growing powers and the cocky display of prowess thrown at the enemies. She had to pretend to die for him at that pure white cathedral, her slender arms sprawled out like the first son of some god and she, fool woman would try and save him from the pathetic attack of Mundus, and it was easy really, to calculate the movements from shielding her from premature death, though it astounded Dante still of her preceding resurrection.

He wanted to alter the way the scene went, the way the finish would have ended, so thus he eliminated his foe earlier than the usual method, he didn't even have to present Sparda to Trish but did anyway, and it belonged to her in more ways than she knew.

It was better this way he reflected, being with his mother but the pain of losing his brother pricked at him. He had hoped, no wished that Vergil could come back to them. Later when he confronted Trish about her true identity, she balked and argued that she was NOT his mother and Nelo Angelo had lied. Still, the suspicion was set in his mind and dared not touch her.

In the deep caverns below the underworld, a battered soul lays immobile in the depths of hell, a beautiful young man with silver hair, scarred and bruised from the painstaking combat previous to, finally smiles, blood dripped along his forehead and lips. His brother was so susceptible that it made him ignore the sharp suffering he was going through.

Their mother had died long ago in that blessed place, knowing in his agonized mind that she rested in peace. He wasn't about to let his brother have Trish anyway, besides why would he? Nelo Angelo would wait it out, another century perhaps? It mattered not. The blood of Sparda coursing through their veins gave them the beautiful inheritance of immortality.


End file.
